


Retrograde

by hallo_42069, Nettie515



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, King GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, Slow Burn, Thief Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-20 14:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30006351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallo_42069/pseuds/hallo_42069, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nettie515/pseuds/Nettie515
Summary: Dream is a well-known thief throughout many kingdoms. He always gets what he wants, and he always gets away with it. Until he makes the mistake of stealing from King George, taking a beautiful golden brooch in the shape of an eagle. For once, he doesn't get away with his stolen goods. Now, he's stuck with the king until he can get the hell out of dodge.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 48





	1. The Nobleman

The market was busy like it always was this time of day. The sun was high in the sky, shining brightly and unforgiving upon the backs of the kingdom’s residents. It was a perfect afternoon for the two thieves. Sapnap and Dream snuck through the crowds of people, giggling and laughing all the way through. They filled their old, brown, leather satchels with stolen trinkets from unsuspecting victims, golden and silver coins stuffed into their pockets. 

The duo split off from each other to cover more ground, but they spared each other a glance; a silent promise to meet up at the center of town after rush hour. So, Dream drifted off to his more familiar side of the market, keeping an eye out for any unsuspecting shoppers. A green cloak enveloped his form, falling off his broad shoulders as he moved through the crowds with practiced ease. No one even spared him a glance--well, maybe except for some curious kids, but that was the least of his problems--as he swiped valuable objects from people’s pockets. 

One man caught his eye from across the sea of people. He was short, and a vantablack cloak hid his skinny frame. To the average person, this man would have just looked like another average shopper, but Dream knew better. His clothes were in too good of a condition to be anything other than rich. He had unknowingly, but successfully piqued Dream’s interest. 

As inconspicuous as possible, Dream trailed the noblemen, watching as they bounced through shop to shop within the market. Dream studied his surroundings, looking for the perfect time to strike, and found that there were at least two guards nearby wherever his noblemen went. 

A challenge.

Dream loved challenges. 

He bided his time, getting close enough to more thoroughly inspect his target. He noticed the soft-looking brunet hair that poked from underneath his hood and the royal blue vest that hugged his torso, along with the pristine white shirt that went underneath it. Another closer look and Dream realized that the trim of the blue vest was lined in gold. Upon one of the lapels of the suit, Dream saw exactly what he wanted to steal.

A beautiful, golden, brooch shaped into an eagle was pinned to his vest. It had emeralds implanted as eyes for the creature and a variety of other gems that lined the wings. It was beautifully crafted and very obviously kept in good shape. Dream set his sights on the brooch, making it his mission to steal it. 

He waited. 

And waited.

And waited.

And waited. 

When the guards had finally turned their backs for a split second, he struck. He bumped shoulders with the noblemen, snatching the brooch off him while the other was distracted. “Ah, Sorry.” Dream gave a fake apology. 

Dear gods, the mystery nobleman was the most beautiful man Dream has seen in his entire life. Dream couldn’t help but feel like he was looking at an opposite version of himself. The nobleman was short, while Dream was tall. He had short, brunet hair while Dream’s was blonde and had to pull into a bun at all times to keep from getting in the way. His eyes were dark brown, almost entirely black, while Dream’s were bright green. Gods, those eyes seemed to look straight past the mask he wore, and right into his soul. (No one would mind if he subconsciously fixed it so it was no longer crooked, right?)

He was just beautiful. 

Of course, the comparisons also extended past physical traits as well. He was wealthy, while Dream was poor. He held himself with an air of royalty and power while Dream hunched in on himself to not be seen--courtesy of his job of course. 

“No worries.” 

He gave it two minutes tops before Dream became much more than just a worry to the nobleman. He slipped off into the sea of people once more, keeping his head low and inspecting his prize. It did seem eerily familiar to the blonde, but he couldn't place exactly where he knew it from. He just shrugged it off, shoving it into his pocket along with the rest of his stolen treasures. 

He heard the telltale clanking of metal and guards yelling for him to stop.

So Dream did what he does best: he ran. 

Dream took that as his queue to start booking it down the streets to make his getaway. He weaved his ways through the sea of people, down streets and back-alleys. He knew these streets better than any guard. One of the things he was most proud of, was his ability to improvise. That along with his parkour skills, Dream prided himself on being able to get out of any sticky situation. 

Dream was able to evade the nobleman’s guards for longer than any average thief would. But he was no average thief. No, he was Dream! The one and only, a traveling pickpocket, always equipped with his famous smiley-face mask. He was known across kingdoms--continents even!--for never being caught by law enforcement. He could never be tied down to any specific kingdom. Instead, he opted to travel the world, stealing whatever he could as he went. 

But every chase came to an end, and Dream was soon trapped in an alleyway on the east side of town, just outside the market and into the lesser-known slums. Dream was caught between an abundance of guards and an unstable brick wall. Three of the five different guards he had spotted following the nobleman and were all blocking the exit of the alleyway. 

“C’mon, don’t you think we can all go out and discuss this over lunch or something. It isn’t that big of a deal that I--Oh my god! Is that person getting stabbed to death?” The guards followed his hand to where he was pointing, only to see nothing. By the time they had turned back to look at Dream, he was already gone. 

See, there was one more teensy, tiny thing that made Dream stand out from the common thief. He could use magic, more specifically: portal magic. With ease, he pulled open a portal to a safer place. On the other side of the hazy, green oval, was a lush forest. His safe place. 

With one more teasing look, Dream was gone. The portal had closed almost as quickly as it opened, sealing into nothingness with a flash of blinding light. Now, instead of the bustle of the market filling the air with noise, it was the rush of wind in the trees and the buzzing of cicadas. 

Good. 

This was good.

For contrary to what his job might imply, Dream preferred the forest to the city any day. The greens of his tattered cloak mirrored that of nature. Green was his favorite color after all, and it was found everywhere in the forests. The thing about portal magic was that you need to pick a safe place to be when you come out of portals. While realistically, you could portal anywhere(with some restrictions of course) it was best to have a set place every time. This was Dream’s place.

He called it Elysium. 

It was quite funny actually, Dream was in no way deserving of a blessed afterlife. If anything, he would be burning in Tartarus for the rest of eternity. If mortality ever caught up to him, that is. Nonetheless, it was his portal location. Tall trees surrounded him, with a large stump in the middle. Rocks and pebbles were littered haphazardly around the base of the stump, and magically inscriptions--courtesy of Dream, of course--were carved into the top. Maybe he used to know what they said, but now he just knew that as the nonsensical scribbles that produce magic. 

When he saw that the sun was already three-fourths of the way in the sky, he decided to take the scenic route back home. Rush hour was now far from over, and Sapnap would start to miss him if he didn’t come sooner rather than later. Still, a little nature walk wouldn’t hurt anyone. 

Dream made his way steadily through the familiar forest. He passed each craving in a rock or a tree with a smile and a bounce in his step. His walk ended far earlier than he would have liked, but he rounded the last corner at the X-mark on the birch tree. He was met face to face with the tiny shack he called home.

It was a quaint little place, overgrown by nature and away from any prying eyes. He opened the creaky oak door and stepped into his Little House. “I’m home!” He called out into the creaky, Little House. 

He was only half expecting the boy who barreled into him. Arms wrapped around his torso, and legs around his waist and he was pushed to the ground by his partner in crime. “Dream! You weren’t at the water fountain today, I thought you died, dude!” He complained, shaking the blond by the shoulders. 

Ah yes, the exact reason he never took the scenic route home: Sapnap. 

Sapnap was energetic, to say the least. He had latched himself onto Dream within days of him being in town. They happened to meet as Sapnap tried to pickpocket him, and in a funny turn of events, they became friends. Sapnap had one day followed him back to Little House, and they’d lived together ever since. He’d learned a lot about the boy since then. Things as simple as his age--Dream was proud to say that he was two years older, Sapnap looked much older than he did with the stubble on his chin and his larger build. But he also learned more complex things, like how he was touchy and enjoyed cuddling before they went to sleep. 

The more Dream stayed with the younger boy, the more things he recognized about Sapnap. Only a week into living together did Dream realize that the other had a small scar on his left eyelid that traveled up to his split eyebrow, as well as the burn scars that littered his hands and forearms. Sapnap had a lot of scars, now that he thought about it.

But he also had learned how Sapnap’s deep maroon eyes seemed to express a thousand emotions at once. Dream couldn’t lie to himself, but sometimes Sapnap’s eyes scared him; they were so dangerously expressive. His caramel-brown hair was softer than it looked as well, Dream learned that the first time he had ruffled Sapnap’s hair. 

Now, for the last month Dream and Sapnap had been going out and stealing things as a team. He was a good kid. Was he animated and vibrant, and maybe even a bit annoying? A thousand times yes, but still a good kid nonetheless. 

“Yeah, yeah. But I got some good loot while I was at it, so it was totally worth it.” Dream explained with a shrug. He emptied the contents of his satchel onto the Round Table in the center of their living room. He fished the brooch from his pocket and set it off to the side, before continuing to pull out golden and silver coins and smaller treasures. 

“Hey, Sapnap?” Dream asked. 

The younger perked up from where he was dumping his own loot onto the Round Table. “Yeah?” He answered, “What’s up?” Again, he continued casually sifting through things, sorting things based on how valuable they were. 

“How much do you think this is worth?” He held up the brooch for Sapnap to see. “The guy who had it looked super-rich--I mean like richer than rich!” 

“Dude!” Sapnap exclaimed. “Do you even know what that means?” A simple shrug prompted Sapnap to continue. “Dude, you stole from the king! Eagles are a symbol of the royal family!”

“So...what I’m hearing is that if I sell this. It’s going to make me a lot of money, right?” Dream asked hopefully. It didn’t seem to clock in his brain that stealing from the king was a death sentence for anyone stupid enough to even attempt it, much less those who got away with it.  
“No!” Sapnap screeched. “Dude, not even the deepest of black markets will take that. The king always gets what he wants, he’s notorious for being a dick!” 

“Oh. So, should I return it or something?” Dream asked, rather dumbly. 

Sapnap let out a groan, dragging a hand down his face in annoyance. “Yes, dumbass!” He said exasperatedly. “You shouldn’t have even stolen it in the first place.”

Dream scoffed, rolling his eyes at his friend’s dramatics. “Oh c’mon now. I’ll just return it then, no worries. It’s not like they’ll ever be able to catch me.” He proclaimed confidently. He glanced down at the brooch one last time, to see those emerald gems staring back at him. A silent promise was on the tip of his beak, but Dream, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out what the eagle was promising him. 

War?

Peace?

Hate?

Love? 

He had no clue.

So he paid no attention to the dark secrets within the gleaming emeralds. He would return the brooch and go about his life. He would continue to steal with Sapnap for a few more months, before moving on to the next kingdom. Maybe he’d bring the kid with him, but then again, maybe not. He hadn’t decided yet. 

“Do you have anything for dinner?” Sapnap asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. Dream tore his gaze away from the brooch, placing it on Round Table once again. Dream internally cringed, he hadn’t thought to get anything while on his walk. It had completely slipped his mind. 

“No, I didn’t get anything.” He said truthfully. “I was a little preoccupied with not getting caught. What about you?” 

Sapnap shrugged, getting up from his position on the creaky couch. “No, I was a little preoccupied with making sure you weren’t dead.” He answered plainly, making a point to use Dream’s own words against him. It was worth it, to hear the quiet huff he let out. 

“Nightmarket then?” Sapnap asked. Despite his earlier quip, he had a dopey grin on his face. Sapnap liked visiting The Nightmarket. Sure it was dangerous and filled with shady people, but the food was amazing, even if a little pricey. 

“Nightmarket.” Dream agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter pog!!


	2. The Prankster

To its all its dangerous credit, The Nightmarket was a very beautiful place. The moon was rising, and the flickering lanterns lining the streets illuminated the path back down to the marketplace. The Nightmarket was a much different place compared to the one that bustled with people during the day. Red lanterns were hung on the sides of every shop, and Sapnap pulled Dream along as he pointed at shops and along with it, the trinkets they sold. 

Finally, they stopped at the aim of their visit. A small stand in the middle of The Nightmarket. Like all the others the red lantern sat peacefully hanging off one of the hooks on the side of the stand. “Hey, Quackity.” Dream said simply. 

The shopkeeper was short, way shorter than Dream was. His hair was covered by a red bandana but bits of jet black locks still sprung free. His eyes were dark brown, looking almost black in certain angles. Though he also had a long scar that ran down the side of his face, over his eye and tugging at the corner of his mouth. Supposedly, it was from an incident with the head of the royal guard, but Dream didn’t know the details. His skin was sunkissed despite having a stand-in The Nightmarket. He was very good-looking, Dream could not deny that, but not exactly his type either. 

He was wearing a simple, yet bright blue turtleneck with just as simple white stripes running down the sides. He had a pair of grey chino pants tucked into black boots raised to the mid-calf. He had an apron over everything, synching his waist and covered in blood--an occupational hazard when you worked as a butcher in The Nightmarket. 

He didn’t have any relationship with the storekeeper past the occasional chat. They exchanged quick greetings before Sapnap quickly dominated the simple conversation. “Quackity!” He screeched, drawing strange stares from other not-so-innocent shoppers nearby. He had one of those dopey grins on his face, the same one he had whenever he got home before Dream. 

Quackity returned the grin with one of his own, equally as dopey as Sapnap’s. “Ey man! How you doin’ man?” He asked easily, the conversation flowing naturally between the two boys. Dream stood off to the side awkwardly, occasionally chiming in but never too much. 

Sure, he liked Quackity. He was one of the funniest people Dream knew, after all, but Sapnap had known him a lot longer. From what his partner and crime had told him, Sapnap had known the shopkeeper since before he started pickpocketing. That was way before Dream had even entered the scene. So, he let them have their fun. 

Eventually, they had migrated behind the counter to chat, so they didn’t hold up any lines. The moon rose high into the night sky, and Dream bumped shoulders with his younger friend; a simple reminder that they didn’t have all day--or well night--to chat. Dream was hungry and knew Sapnap was too, even if he was too caught up in conversation to remember. “Ah, sorry. I got carried away. We haven’t been to the market in such a long time.” Sapnap apologized quickly. 

Finally, he got on with what they came here to do, get food. 

Sapnap ordered what he wanted--it had a complicated name and Dream could never remember what it was--while Dream passed over two gold coins, and a silver one in exchange. “I’ll get it now,” Quackity said with that same grin on his face, the one that made the scar bend to fit his face. 

Quackity never worked in silence, he hummed a tune as he took two pre-crumbled pieces of meat and tossed it into a skillet. He set that over the fire on a holder that it settled into easily. Dream and Sapnap watched in awe every time as he masterfully cut onions and tomatoes, throwing them into the skillet along with cheese and some spices. Next, he cut two peppers and took out the seeds, tossing the leftover guts into a small box on the floor. 

He prepared a simple metal sheet, coating it with olive oil before taking the skillet out of the holder with a towel. He set the peppers onto the oiled sheet, letting them roast, turning them upside down halfway through. Then, He scooped the meat out of the skillet and stuffed it into the empty peppers. He then sprinkles the top with more cheese and sets them back on the meat sheet. It was put over the fire again, and once the cheese was melted they were put into a small box and set off to the side. 

The duo eyed it hungrily, but one stern look from Quackity stopped them from taking the box for themselves. Some pre-made rice was tossed into the box after being heated up by the already-used skillet. A few small bars of chocolate, wrapped in paper were also snuck into the box as a treat. Dream didn’t remember what they were called--even though both Quackity and Sapnap had tried to tell him multiple times--but he knew he liked them. They were like small cakes covered in chocolate and filled with strawberry jelly and frosting. 

They were really good. 

Finally, Quackity put a top on the box and handed it off to them. “Will that be all gentlemen?” He asked, playing up a posh accent. Dream took the box carefully from the shorter man, cradling it like a baby. It had been a very long time since he had any of Quackity’s cooking. He was practically drooling over how good it smelled. The two shook their heads dumbly, causing the shopkeeper to bust out laughing.

“Oh, my gods! You guys look so stupid!” He pointed at them and laughed, much to their embarrassment. Sapnap had tried to defend himself, but he was shot down almost immediately. He childishly stuck out his tongue at Quackity, while Dream’s face burned in embarrassment, causing him to anxiously straighten his mask. 

Though, all good things must come to an end. The banter slowly died down as the moon moved steadily through the sky. The duo needed to get home before their food got cold and the night was still young. Quackity also still had many customers waiting for a taste of his recipes. So, they said their goodbyes as they traveled back through the market. 

Dream sacrificed a bit of magic to get home quicker. The familiarity of the crackle of his portals opening calmed him. “You first.” He reminded Sapnap. They had already made the mistake of letting Dream go through the portal first. It ended with Sapnap getting stranded at the marketplace while guards were chasing him. Dream wasted a lot more magic than he liked that day, getting Sapnap back home. 

“Oh, yeah,” Sapnap said, rather dumbly. “Forgot.” He stepped through the portal before Dream. He was careful to step over the green, hazy ring of magic that bordered the portal. He was not keen on electrocuting himself again. Once Sapnap was through, Dream stepped through himself. It closed behind him with a snap, the sound akin to when you snap a rubber band than anything else. 

Dream and Sapnap were back in Elysium within an instant. The tall trees surrounded them in a circle and the duo sat next to each other on the stump. The darkness didn’t seem to reach farther than the outline of the trees. The moonlight shone down brightly upon them and lightning bugs dance in the tall grass below them. It was just...magical. 

Dream would have been content to sit here forever, gracefully basking in the moonlight. But alas, it was a cold night, and he knew better than to stay out in the woods at night. So, the duo made their way back to Little House. They took the shortcut this time, not wanting to be out longer than needed. 

Passing the X-marked birch tree and rounding the corner, they were home once again. This time, Dream was the first one to enter. He walked through the Little House with practiced ease, before setting down the food on the Round Table. He plopped down onto the couch, Sapnap joining him as they eagerly opened the box. The divine smell wafted into the room, making their mouths water. 

They dug into their food, picking up the stuffed peppers and eating them as quickly as possible. Nothing could compare to Quackity’s food, not even the gods’ ambrosia. Sapnap turned to Dream with a mouthful of food and a grin, “This is awesome!”

Dream grinned back, nodding his head in frantic agreement. He finished his first pepper and ate the second just as swiftly. Sapnap, on the other hand, had a little more trouble. He was continuously taking bites too big for him to swallow. Dream wheezed, laughing at him as he started coughing, but patted and rubbed his back helpfully after.

“You jerk! I thought I was going to die!” Sapnap said dramatically. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he cleared his throat. This only made Dream laugh even harder, folding in on himself and holding his stomach in pain. His ribs hurt, yet he couldn’t stop laughing--Sapnap’s weak protests weren’t helping his case much either. 

Finally, his laughter started to die down. Dream sucked in a large breath, “Okay, okay. I’m good down.” He said, though some childish giggles still escaped him. Sapnap punched his arm in retribution.

“I hate you.” Sapnap groaned.

“Nah, you love me Sappy!” Dream teased, ruffling his chestnut brown hair. 

Sapnap pouted, smacking his hand away. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

Some time as they ate, a brown cat had jumped in through the open window. Patches. She was a cat that often joined them at night, looking for shelter. Dream and Sapnap had both taken a liking to her, eventually naming her Patches after the third visit. She brushed up on Dream’s leg, before joining the duo on the couch. She made her home on Dream’s lap, and he let out a soft chuckle as he pet her. 

Sapnap cooed softly at her, petting her head. Patches swatted at his hand, causing him to retract it quickly to avoid being clawed. “No fair, she always sits with you!” Sapnap complained. “Why does she like you more than me.”

“You can try picking her up. I don’t think it’d go that well for you, though.” Dream offered. Luckily, Sapnap didn’t seem keen on getting clawed to death and left the cat alone. 

They had a lot of nights like this since they started living together. Silence would fill the air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or forced. It was nice. Dream was content to stay like this forever. 

The duo stumbled into their shared bed like little kids. The night was cold, and they cuddled together to conserve warmth. Sapnap was always unnaturally hot(Dream thinks that has something to do with his fire magic, but he’s not sure), and Dream couldn’t help but feel happy that they could hold each other so comfortably. He remembered when they used to awkwardly shuffle in an attempt to be closer to each other and warm up.

On the contrary, Sapnap would now just sling his arm around Dream’s waist and cuddle close. In turn, Dream would hug Sapnap close to his chest and rest his chin on top of the shorter boy’s head. Dream fell into unconsciousness with the younger boy beside him, without another care in the world. 

As it always does. Their night did not go without incident. 

_ He opened his eyes and found himself in the air. Flying. He was flying. His lips curled into a wide grin underneath his mask; He couldn’t believe it but he was really flying. It felt amazing. The feeling of the wind rustling his hair was possibly the most freeing thing he’d felt in years. It felt like he was letting all his problems go, finally able to leave everything that’d been tying him down. He couldn't help the childish giggle that left him, and in a way, he felt like he deserved to laugh again. It felt good, he realizes, to laugh like a child again.  _

_ He twists around with his back to the ground, basking in the sun’s warm light. He could feel the rays hot on his stomach. He holds his arms outstretched to the sun like he was about to give Helios a big hug. He loves it here. He loves everything about it. Zephyr graced him with a peaceful breeze, and Helios shined its rays lovingly upon him. Nothing could stop him from finally being free.  _

_ Until it stops.  _

_ Within a second everything stops and he falls. He feels like Icarus flying too close to the sun. But this time, no one had warned him that he would fall. No, they set him free only to watch him fall with cruel enjoyment. He tried to portal to safety but it just wouldn't work. No matter how hard he tries, he could no longer feel the magic coursing through his veins. He just keeps falling faster and faster towards the ground. Without his magic, he doesn’t know what to do. He flails awkwardly in mid-air trying to save himself, but nothing happens. He closes his eyes tightly and holds his breath, bracing himself to be slammed onto the forest floor below. But before hitting the ground-- _

Dream jolted upright in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. “Oh, my gods.” He murmured, patting himself down to make sure he was still real. Still  _ alive.  _ He was relieved to find that yes, he did indeed still have a corporal body. He knocked against the wood of his mask to confirm that it too, was still there. 

The notion offered him little reprieve at the time, “oh, my gods.” Dream repeats. He cradles his head in his hands, and he can feel the exhaustion wash over him in steady waves. Yet he can’t bring himself to go back to sleep. No, not after that nightmare. 

So instead, he slips out of bed. He leaves Sapnap to uncomfortably shift, grabbing at the air before settling back down into a deep slumber. Dream picks his old hoodie and slides it over his head. It still didn’t fit him properly, even after years of wearing it. The sleeves formed sweater-paws over his hands, and the hoodie stopped at his knees. Still, despite the ill-fitted clothing, it was cold and he needed something to cover himself with. 

Dream put on his boots but didn’t bother to tie them. He stepped outside Little House, the coolness of the night nipping at his cheeks. A soft sigh escaped him, a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in. He stared up at the starry night sky, or at least what he could see past the thick canopy. 

It was the one and only thing he hated about forests, you could never see the stars. 

“Dream?”

Dream whipped around to see Sapnap standing in the door frame. He had a frown on his face, and his maroon eyes stared straight into Dream’s soul. Again, he could see so many emotions swirling around in Sapnap’s eye. He couldn’t bring himself to hold eye contact, and his own gaze flickered down to the ground. A hand came to knock the wood of his mask, reminding himself that it was there. It was keeping him safe.

“What are you doing out here?” He questioned softly. From behind, Sapnap carefully wrapped his arms around Dream’s torso and rested his head in the crook of his neck. He swayed softly from side to side with Dream in his arms. 

He didn’t trust his voice at the moment, so he didn’t dare answer Sapnap.

“Nightmare?” A nodded his head: yes. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He shook his head: no.

Dream never wanted to talk about his nightmares. Thankfully, Sapnap was understanding as he talked for both of them. “How ‘bout we go inside. It’s cold out here.” He offered. Again, he got a hum and a nod. Smoothing his hand down to the small of Dream’s back and leading him back to the Little House. “Do you want me to get you water from the river?” He asked.

This time, Dream shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “Just stay with me till I fall asleep, please.” He murmured. Now it was Sapnap’s turn to nod and hum. Together, they climbed back into bed. Sapnap was now the one who held him close, and Dream used his arm as a pillow. 

“Thank you.” Dream croaked softly. His throat felt raw, just like he had screamed until his lungs screamed for air. Or as if he had sobbed until the tears ran dry and he could no longer cry, but he had done nothing of the sort. 

“No problem dude,” Sapnap replied, just as softly. 

With that, for the second time for the night, Dream slipped into the soft lull of sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter! We will be releasing a new chapter every day until we are up to date with the chapter we are working on now. All of the chapters so far have already been pre-written, so stay tuned for more updates!!!


	3. The King

_Knock!_

_Knock!_

_Knock!_

George was awoken by the instant knocking at his chamber doors. The sun was filtering through the window, spilling into the room. Judging by the amount of light coming in, the sun had been up for a long time. He was pulled back into reality as he heard a muffled voice from the other side of his dark oak door. “Your Majesty!” He yelled frantically from the other side. 

Bad...George thought with a hum. Why was Bad here? What time was it?

“I’m coming in Your Majesty! Please look decent!” Bad called. George didn’t have time to respond before the door flew open. In the door frame stood his royal advisor (and childhood best friend), Bad Noveschosch. 

George was sitting upright in his bed, looking nowhere near what would be decent enough for a king, but for Bad everything looked normal. His brown hair was sticking up in random directions--courtesy of his pillow--and there was a small line of drool at the corner of his mouth. The dress shirt he had fallen asleep in was half-way unbuttoned at the top. His head was still groggy with sleep, and he could barely think properly at the time. He looked like a mess. 

But Bad had asked George for decent, and this was all he would get. 

“Good morning, Your Majesty.” Bad chirped in his regular, cheerful voice. He looked exactly the way he acted. He had a soft voice and an even softer heart. He had been friends with Bad since his childhood, and he had always been such a kind soul. A level head and was one of the most loyal people George knew. He was made for the role of a royal advisor. His fluffy brown hair was tamed and his dark brown eyes sparkled with joy behind his glasses. His undershirt is white and to George, Bad’s vest looks like a dirty yellow. Yellow? George fumbled for his glasses on top of his dresser and put them off. Only then was he met with the familiar deep, wine red he had always associated with Bad. 

With a groan and a roll of his eyes, George slides out of bed. He gently took the clothes Bad presented to him. He eyed them closely, they closely resemble the attire he had on the day prior. Not he minded, he quite liked the blue, even without his colorblind glasses on. 

When he's finished groggily dressing he looks in the mirror. Bad always picked out the best clothes and today was no exception. It was a lot like his outfit from the previous day, a deep royal blue in color with golden accents. He wore a pristine white dress shirt under the blue jacket with golden embroidery thread in the shape of small flowers lining the bottom. A thin red ribbon was tied into a bow around the collar of his shirt. The red matched the large king’s robe he was supposed to wear, but never did. Charcoal grey pants tucked into boots that went up to his mid-calf and had a slight heel. 

He liked the outfit, it made him _look_ more kingly than he often felt. 

Even so, he couldn’t help but brush his hand over the spot his brooch would go, nor the sad sigh that escapes him when he realizes it wasn’t going to be there. I will get it back eventually, he reminded himself, no matter what I’ll get it back.

The brooch had been a gift from his mother--who had unfortunately passed in his early childhood. It had been a family heirloom, passed down through multiple generations before him. He felt the guilt swell up in his chest at the thought. Of course, George had to be the one to lose an important family heirloom. His father would never let him live this down when he visits this summer. 

A hand-rubbed his back reassuringly. He distantly recognized it as a comforting gesture from Bad--he was the only one brave enough to touch the king in such an improper manner. Despite all the protocol Bad had broken with a single touch, George was never more thankful for his best friend. "It's ok, Your Majesty, we'll get it back soon." His friend's reassuring voice says from behind him. George grimaced and turned to look at Bad. All the what-ifs were on the tip of his tongue, but all he could do in the end was nod dumbly in agreement. The pair left George’s room and went down to the dining room for breakfast. George didn’t want a grand meal to be presented to him like it was every other morning. No, he wasn’t in the mood for that after everything that had happened. So he settled for grabbing a small plate and just grabbing at whatever things were on the table.

When he left to go to his study, he had taken half a loaf of bread, cheese, and an assortment of fruit on his small plate. It wasn’t much, but George didn’t think he had the motivation to eat anymore--if the pit in his stomach was anything to go off of. 

The halls of the castle were boring and formulaic, but George found himself at ease with the geometric patterns. He liked the familiarity of patterns. He liked knowing what was next. The eloquence of each perfect, identical pillar that lined the hallway. He had perfect squares that made up the tiles under his feet. He had masterful works of stained glass on windows spanning the expense of a single hallway. 

Everything in his castle was as it was supposed to be: perfect.

But even with that notion, George couldn’t help the drifting of his thoughts. His eyes glossed over the epic tales depicted with glass, or the beautiful flowers sat in vases underneath those works of glass. His thoughts drifted to the exact thing that he was trying to push to the back of his mind. 

The thief. 

He _hated_ the thief who had stolen from him yesterday. He was the epitome of chaos and unpredictability. Gods, he could still imagine those beady eyes of the mask staring straight through him, as a fake apology tumbled from his lips with ease. 

And now his mother’s brooch was missing.

All because he had trusted a _stupid_ man in an even _stupider_ smiley-face mask. 

Finally, after a way too long walk, with way too depressing thoughts. He stood at the entrance of his study. He bid his goodbyes to Bad--who had other work to attend to--and stepped inside his study. It's a big room with a beautifully crafted dark oak desk in the center of the room. Two bookshelves lined the walls beside it. On the wall across from the door a large window that overlooked the entire kingdom. Everything from the inner circle of large houses belonging to nobles, and further away to the east side of the capital which was small and compact. He could almost see the entire ring of the forest that encircled the entire city. George couldn’t lie, sometimes he would sit and watch over the city for hours, instead of doing the work he was supposed to. 

Yet, with the way the room is set up the king had to turn his back to them. 

He settled into his comfortable throne-like chair. He already had a thick stack of papers, treaties, and reports in a messy stack on his desk. With a short huff, he picked up the first paper and started to read. It was a complaint from the east side of town. 

George let out a groan, one unthinkable for someone of his status. Of course, it was. They always had something to complain about, no matter what I do. He thought bitterly. 

  
  
  


…

King’s work was so _incredibly_ boring.

He had signed off on a million papers by now and tossed out, even more but it didn’t seem to even scratch the surface of the amount of work he had to do. It didn’t help that Bad had been periodically bringing in a new stack every hour or so. He was trapped under the nightmare that was his paperwork. 

Thankfully, he was interrupted by a soft tapping on the door. Surely, it was Bad telling him to go take a break. While he brought in a lot of work, he also made sure George took breaks as to not overwork himself. It was one of the things he liked best about his royal advisor, he knew how to balance things. He would give George what seemed like an ungodly amount of work, but he prioritized taking breaks above all else. It helped a lot too. George always got his work done after Bad started implementing mandatory breaks into his schedule. 

He stood up to open the door, but he was only half-way across the room when the door flew open on its own. George was met face to face(or well face to mask, he supposes) with the thief from the day prior. 

“Oh.” He said, looking George up and down. 

The two stood at an impasse for a few moments with George frozen with shock and disbelief. The utter audacity of this man! He just walked into his study uninvited, after he had stolen a precious family heirloom, and all he had to say for himself was “Oh". 

George couldn’t believe him. 

George couldn’t _fucking_ believe him.

The pure outrage he was feeling must’ve shown on his face, unfiltered rage swirling around in his brown eyes. By the looks of it, the thief was smart enough to know that he had pissed off the wrong person. He took off running, and George, fuelled by anger, chased after him. 

George chased the tall man through the hallway, shouting obscenities that were unfit for a king. Luckily, his knowledge of the layout and inner workings of the castle was superior to that of the thief. He was also lucky that no one was allowed in his study wing past three P.M. 

Though, George had to admit: it felt as if the thief knew where he was going as well. George couldn’t help but be surprised when the cloaked thief took shortcuts or sharp turns in an attempt to throw George off his rhythm. 

Though, his knowledge was still superior. The thief turned around the corner sharply and locked himself into a small, unused storage room. The thief was cornered. George didn’t hesitate to follow him into the room after him and blocked the only exit in the room.

George would be lying if he said he didn’t get some sort of sick satisfaction at hearing the soft muttering of a curse. He knew he had gotten trapped, George could applaud him for that. 

Only now could the King now take in the details of the masked thief. There were some things he hadn’t had the time to notice before; like how his clothes were incredibly ill-fitting, or how his frame was incredibly skinny even with his broad shoulders, and how he seems to reach up and slightly adjust his wooden mask on his face. George recognized it immediately as a nervous tick--he used to fiddle with his brooch all the time when he was nervous--and couldn’t help the smirk that found its way onto his face. 

The thought of the stolen brooch renewed his vigor to bring this common thief to justice. 

No one steals from the royal family. 

No one steals from _George._

The royal could feel the hidden eyes staring at him from behind the mask. "Put the brooch on the ground and your hands up." He tried to look stern and intimidating. He wasn’t sure if the stern look would mean anything, as the thief did not move. Those beady eyes stared back at him cooly, and had it not been for the stubble shifting of his mask, George would have no clue what he was feeling. 

(He also couldn't help but feel proud for being able to pick up on such a minuscule detail, like the thief’s body language. He would give himself a mental pat on the back for that one later.)

"Listen, can't we work something out-" The cloaked figure tried to reason. He didn’t get very far before being cut off by the king. 

"We aren't working anything out. You're coming with me and you are going to prison." George ordered. “Put the brooch on the ground and then put your hands up!” 

He received a small huff in response. He wasn’t sure if it was even going to work, but after a long minute of hesitation, the thief followed his instructions. He slowly but surely put the eagle brooch on the ground, along with what looked like a page from an old book under it, then put his hands in the air. 

George eyed him suspiciously, making no move to pick up the brooch--not yet. If all goes well, he could get some answers out of the thief. “Who are you?” He asked tentatively. As much as he tried to phrase it as a demand, the curiosity in his voice ruined the effect. 

Despite being made, the thief seemed surprised and confused by the question. He was silent for just a moment, and George could practically hear the cogs turning in his head. The silence seemed to stretch forever but finally, he answered. 

“A thief.” He said. 

It was a simple answer, and George knew that he should have expected that. So he tried again, “What’s your name?”

There was no hesitance this time, and the thief answered almost immediately. “Dream.” He said. It was a pretty name even as unusual as it may be, George had to admit. He couldn’t let himself get distracted now.

“Where are you from?” George asked next. 

“I don’t know.” Dream answered plainly. 

He doesn’t know? How does someone not know where they’re from? George thought angrily. What infuriated him more than anything else though, was how the thief seemed almost bored with the interrogation. He wasn’t supposed to be acting bored in the middle of an interrogation, he was supposed to be nervous and under pressure!

“You don’t know?” He echos. Dream only nods back at him. The king let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Okay, how old are you then?” He asked next. 

“Twenty-one summers.” He paused, before confirming his answer. “Yeah, twenty-one summers. What is this? An interrogation?” They questioned jokingly, but George was not in a joking mood and the man quickly quieted down again. 

“Yes.” He answered very matter-of-factly.

This seemed to be very off-putting to the thief--Dream? It still felt weird to even think the thief had a name--who’s posture straightened. His hands no longer remained in the air, dropping to his sides. Before George had time to protest the sudden movement, the green man had sighed and mumbled something under his breath before punching George square in the jaw. His head was flung to the side and he had to brace himself against the door to stay standing. Behind him, he could hear a soft crackling and an even softer green glow before it stopped. He turned to where the other man was standing and was stunned to see that he wasn't standing there anymore. 

What the fuck just happened? 

Sitting on the floor was his mother’s brooch. The thief--Dream, he reminded himself--had the perfect opportunity to take it with him, wherever he went, but it was still in the same spot on the floor. He walked over to it, still rubbing his jaw and mumbling annoyed curses, and knelt beside it. He carefully picks it up and pins it in the place it belongs, back onto the lapels of his. Then, he picks up the slip of paper that was under it. It was a sloppily written note.

The paper was almost completely yellow at this point and one edge was burnt and singed. On the back, he found that the paper used to be part of a book. With jumbles of nonsensical sentences that no longer fit together. He turned it back over to look at the note. It was sloppy, George could barely read it, but if he squinted he could make out the words:

_Sorrie_

_\- :)_

  
  


The words were shaking, but George’s gaze softened the tiniest bit at the words. He recognized the smiley-face as the same one on Dream’s mask. The drawing was still as shaky on paper, as it was carved into the wood. He walked back to his study where he found Bad waiting for him. Even worse, he looked furious. 

His normally kind green gaze now stared right through his soul. “Where were you, Your Majesty?” He huffed, “I was worried sick! Why is your face all red? Are you sick, do you need me to call the doctor?” 

George couldn’t help but smile at his royal advisor’s motherly behavior. He put the note in his pocket, “Bad, I’m fine. In fact,” he pointed at his brooch proudly, “I’m more than just fine!” He grinned at his advisor, who stared at him in shock before they were both smiling like idiots. 

“I’m glad you got it back George,” Bad said truthfully, letting his formalities drop for just a moment. George only smiled warmly back at him. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thinking of making a playlist for this fic, y'all got any song recommendations?


	4. The Friends

It was early afternoon when Dream had gotten home from sneaking into the castle. 

Dream sat on the old, dirty couch, cradling his head in his hands. Beside him, his partner in crime was laughing so hard, his ribs were beginning to ache. He would gasp for air but inevitably dissolve into another fit of laughter right after. “Sap, don’t laugh at me!” He protested, “you were literally yelling at me yesterday for stealing it, and now I fucking punched him! This is way worse.”

It was true. Dream had snuck into the castle trying to return what he had stolen and left after he had punched the king. It was like he was trying to check off all the boxes to become an enemy of the royal family. 

“I can’t breathe! I can’t fucking breathe!” Sapnap gasped for air, trying to stop laughing. “You punched the king dude!” It didn’t work and he started to laugh again. He was clutching his stomach in pain, his ribs aching as his body shook with laughter. 

Dream was not amused. 

Dream smacked him on the backside of his head, “Leave me alone Pandas!” He huffed, undeniably pouting under the safety of his mask. Sapnap made a noise of hurt before the giggles eventually died down, and his lips curled into his signature dopey grin. 

“Why do you keep callin’ me Pandas anyways?” Sapnap asked genuinely. He had never seemed to mind the nickname on the various occasions Dream had used it, he was still curious about where it had come from. 

Dream didn’t know how he came to call Sapnap “Pandas”, so he could only shrug at the question. “I dunno, you’re just my Pandas.” He replied. “You know?” He matched Sapnap’s grin and even if it was hidden behind a mask, he knew Sapnap would be able to tell.

He always knew when Dream was happy, or smiling. 

“Oh,” Sapnap responded rather dumbly. Dream didn’t mind it, he found that Sapnap did it quite a lot. He thought it was pretty cute if anything else. 

He remembers the first time he had called Sapnap “Pandas” very clearly. It was one of those moments that solidified their friendship. It had been an accidental slip of the tongue, but it ended up sticking in the end. It wasn’t any clever play on words, or something related to Sapnap’s name like the rest were. 

It wasn’t like Sappy, or Sap, or Snapmap, or even Sapitus Napitus. 

He was just Dream’s Pandas. 

Dream was going through the loot for the day, humming softly. Sapnap was sitting beside him at Round Table, sorting through his stack of treasures. They were sorting what would be sold away for money and what would be kept as personal trinkets. Sapnap had been with him for almost two weeks now, and Dream was starting to warm up to the other boy. 

Despite their unconventional meeting--AKA Sapnap attempting to steal from a much more experienced thief--, Sapnap was a good kid. He had gotten comfortable with Dream very fast, which had scared him if he was being honest. Sapnap trusted too fast, but despite that the two found themselves becoming close friends. 

As Sapnap was about to get up, Dream called him back over. “Hey, Pandas.” He pouted, pulling on his arm. Dream tugged him back down to sit next to him, and Sapnap obliged. Dream seemingly had no qualms with the words that had just left his mouth.

Sapnap sent him a strange look, “what? Who the fuck is Pandas?” He asked, confusion laced into his tone.

Dream body language seemed to mirror Sapnap’s confusion and if you took off the mask, there would be no doubt that his face expressed his confusion as well. “What?” He echoed. He tensed up at the look Sapnap was giving him with those dangerously expressive eyes. “What did I say?” He asked. Dream adjusted his mask self consciously. 

“Pandas, you called me Pandas,” Sapnap explained. 

“Did I?” Dream couldn’t believe he had called Sapnap that. His face burned in embarrassment. Despite the mask, he covered his face with his hands and let out a sheepish groan. “I’m sorry dude. It just slipped--gods that’s embarrassing.”

“Nah dude, I think it’s kinda cute actually!” Sapnap laughed, pulling Dream into a tight hug. Sapnap’s laugh was contagious and no matter how hard he tried, Dream dissolved into a fit of giggles. He hugged Sapnap back, clinging to the younger boy as if he was a lifeline as he laughed hard enough to make his ribs ache. 

“Okay, okay!” Dream giggled, “you’re My Pandas then Sappy!” 

It was such a simple--and frankly embarrassing--recollection of events but it had wormed its way into Dream’s brain as a fond memory. This time, of his own violation, Dream pulled Sapnap into a hug. “What's this about Dreamy?” Sapnap teased. “What did I deserve to get a hug from the almighty Dream?”

“Whatcha keeping? Whatcha selling?” Dream asked, avoiding Sapnap’s question with one of his own. Sapnap didn’t mind too much, he knew that the blonde was always good at dodging questions. He’d never get a straight answer if Dream didn’t want to give him any. 

“Hm. Well, I found this cool potion-thingy.” Sapnap explained. “I think it looks super cool, what about you?” He showed Dream the potion, the orange-yellow liquid sloshing around in the bottle. It was very pretty, Dream would admit, useful too. 

He had seen his fair share of potions as he traveled from place to place. He knew everything from poison to regeneration. Orange equals fire resistance, he remembered. “Hm, that’s very fitting of you.” Dream said, the irony of it all making his chuckle. 

Sapnap didn’t seem to get it, but Dream didn’t mind explaining it. Carefully, he took the bottle from the younger and held it above both of their heads. “This gives people fire resistance. I once met this guy who was really good at making potions a few kingdoms back. I don’t remember his name, just another wandering trader. He taught me some things here and there, but that one is definitely fire resistance!” He chirped happily in explanation. 

“Oh?” Sapnap hummed in understanding. He looked down at the bottle again once Dream had handed it back. In one hand, he held the potion and in the other, a small flame was in the palm of his hand. It was like the younger had lit a match in his hand without any ignition. 

“Fire resistance, huh?” He asked. Dream nodded. 

Maybe that would come in handy some time.

That afternoon went without incident. Soon enough, the sun dipped below the horizon line leaving the moon to shine dully in its place. They neglected to sleep till the later hours of the night, instead opting to find the best clearing they could. Sure, sometimes the canopy above was thick but if you were lucky enough you could find some sky. Sapnap was lucky enough to find them a nice spot not too far from Little House. 

It was beautiful. The stars and moon stood out amongst the midnight sky with yellows, and oranges, and whites. They lay on their backs and Dream pointed out any constellation he could find. He remembered when he was only a child and would stargaze with his mothers during the summer. A tradition he didn't hesitate to share with Sapnap, although it isn’t summer yet, and nor were the duo related. He taught them to Sapnap as best he could. 

Nyx smiled down at them from up in the sky lovingly, even as she shrouded the world in the darkness of night. It must have been hours before they got up and went back to Little House but the duo couldn’t bring themselves to care. They walked back home in the darkness, holding hands as if they were afraid of losing each other in the darkness. 

They changed into more comfortable clothes--Sapnap taking off his off-white dress shirt just to lay in the sleeveless top underneath it, while Dream changed into his oversized hoodie for the night. They cuddled together in the small bed, Sapnap wrapping his arms around Dream’s waist and pulling him close. Sapnap’s heat was comforting, just like it always was. Slowly, Dream was lulled to sleep by Sapnap’s heat and his soft snores. The night went on with no nightmares and no problems.

Dream wished it could stay like that forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your honor, they are best friends. Brothers, if you will.


	5. The Beast

It was another work day for Sapnap and Dream. The market wasn’t as busy as it was the other day, but busy enough to score some good loot. The sky was cloudy, yet the sun managed to poke through at some angles nonetheless. The first thing Dream noticed was the increase in guards patrolling the area. Normally, there would be no less than three or four patrolling each sector of the market but now it was anywhere from six to eight. 

“More guards?” Sapnap asked, glancing over to Dream. The masked man was looking straight ahead into the heavily-guarded market. His voice became hushed, “do you think it has anything to do with yesterday? When you snuck into the castle?”

Dream could only nod as he scanned his surroundings. Sapnap intertwined his fingers with Dream’s, squeezing his hand in reassurance. “Hey, listen to me dude. We don’t need to do it today, we’ve got enough from the last time, we can take the day off if you need to.” 

It was true. They had enough to get by for the next week, everything else was just cautionary--in case something didn’t sell as high as it should. Still, Dream refused to turn back now. He was the best thief to ever live, a few extra guards wouldn’t be able to stop him!

“No. It’s fine, let’s do this.” He said, squeezing Sapnap’s hand back. He decided to ignore the worry in his gaze, entering the market. “See you after rush hour ends, Sappy.” The duo parted ways, disappearing in the crowd. 

Dream traversed through the sea of people with practiced ease, yet constantly having to remind himself to be wary. He always had to look over his shoulder--making sure there was no one watching him--before he snatched another pouch of coins or any random treasures.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, you there?” Dream flinched. He whipped around to find a guard standing behind him. Or at least he thought it was a guard. The man was much more dressed up than any guard Dream had ever seen. He was dressed in netherite armor instead of the regular iron and he had a thick red cape falling off his shoulders. The red of his cape matched the same striking crimson of his eyes. He had long, beautiful pink hair braided and tossed over his shoulder. 

Dream stared at him with wide eyes. These were the times that he was never more thankful for the mask he always wore. “Yeah?” He murmured, rather dumbly. “Did you need something?”

“You’re Dream, correct?” The hand on his shoulder tightened his grip considerably. This man knew his name, and he was a guard. That was never a good combination. On second thought, maybe he shouldn’t give his name out to random kings on a whim. 

“Dream?” He echoed, playing up his confusion by cocking his head to the side. “I’ve never heard of someone named Dream. I’m sorry sir, but you’ve got the wrong person.” He lied straight through his teeth without much trouble. 

“I don’t think I do.” He said blankly. He grabbed Dream by the arm, “you will be coming with me to the castle.” 

Dream yanked his arm back, glaring at the guard. “You have the wrong person, sir.” Dream repeated more sternly this time. The guard didn’t budge. “Who are you to assume the identity of some poor commoner. Leave me be, sir.” Dream seethed. 

The guard didn’t back down. “I’m the head of the royal guard.” He challenged, “and you are no commoner Dream. You will be coming to the castle with me.” It was no longer just a simple request, but a demand. The gig was up, and Dream could no longer hide behind a lie. 

“Head of the Royal Guard, huh?” Dream murmured. Technoblade. That was the man standing in front of him. The same man that gave Quackity the scar that stretched down from his eyelid to his lips. He truly looked like he would kill a man without a moment's hesitation. 

“You can take me to the castle then. That is if you can catch me.” 

With that, Dream opened a portal and he was gone. With a small flash of light, he was in another sector of the market, a smaller sector, but just as crowded if not more so. He breathed a sigh of relief and headed on his way. The sector was just as heavily guarded as the last, but at least he didn’t have to deal with any murderous pigs trying to take him to the castle. 

Dream continued on his way, snatching trinkets and treasures from shoppers but with some added caution this time. There was a familiar crackle and flash of light behind him, but this time it wasn’t from one of his portals. He whipped around to come face to face with Technoblade. Again. 

“What the fuck?” Dream gaped. He had never met another person who could use portal magic, let alone follow him with one. Despite his gawking, Dream quickly made a new portal. Then he made another, and another, and another. He jumped from portal to portal, trying to throw the guard off his trail. 

He found himself in multiple sectors of the market, even though the east and west sides of the capital. Eventually, he ended up in Elysium. There was no way that the guard would be able to follow him. Sure, he probably has the entire city mapped out yet Dream doubted he would be able to find him in the forest. 

He was able to relax for a moment as the familiar sights and sounds filled his senses. The tall trees and buzzing of insects. Only a moment though, as not soon after Techno was coming through another portal. “Are we done now?” He asked monotonously. “Your chase is getting quite boring.”

“How’d you get here?” Dream hissed. He backed away from Technoblade, assuming a defensive stance. If he couldn’t portal to safety, he’d have to fight Techno instead. He pulled a small, unassuming, iron dagger from a small compartment on his satchel. It was a flimsy thing, barely even a weapon compared to Techno’s netherite sword, but it should work until he was able to get away.

Technoblade did not dignify his question with a response. Instead, he only repeated the same, deary phrase: “You will be coming to the castle with me Dream. That is a direct order from King George.” The guard unsheathed his sword the moment Dream took out his dagger. 

Dream’s gaze flickered down to the sword, before focusing back on Techno. “I want you to explain how you keep following me. You’re not using portal magic.” Dream said. It was true, that the guard wasn’t using portal magic or at least a variant that Dream had never seen before. 

Dream was adamant that it wasn’t the latter option. Portal magic was a niche section of magic not known by many people, that was one of many reasons Dream had picked it up. He knew from experience that portals could only be opened if the caster could vividly imagine the place he was portalling to. If not, they could get stuck in the In-Between, a place the same as its name suggests; a place in between where a caster is portaling from and where they are portalling to. 

That’s another reason Elysium was so important to Dream. It ensured he would never be stuck in the In-Between. So to have Techno trudge carelessly into sacred grounds made his blood boil. It was just plain disrespectful above all else. 

“I’m not giving information to a homeless Teletubby.” He mused.

Dream a noise of offense, “What the fuck? What the fuck is wrong with you? I am not homeless!” He screeched. He was taken aback by the crude comment. “I literally met you like twenty minutes ago! You don’t even know where I live!”

“Sounds like something a homeless person would say.” Techno snorted. 

“I have a house!” Dream scoffed. “It’s really, really big and hidden away so people like you don’t find it!” Two truths and a lie. The Little House was everything but big, it was a small and quiet little place. 

As Dream began to babble about how huge Little House was, Techno took the opportunity to strike. He thrust his netherite sword towards the blonde. If he was any slower, the blade would have skewered his stomach. Luckily, Dream managed to dodge, using the flimsy dagger to redirect the sword away from his body. 

Once more, Dream assumed a defensive stance. He was quite embarrassed that Techno had been able to distract him so easily but that would only happen once. When Techno struck again, Dream was ready. It was much easier to dodge and redirect attacks now that he was ready for them. He moved swiftly and precisely, dancing around Techno like he’d done it a thousand times. 

Technoblade was powerful as the rumors said. Each strike was decisive and premeditated and then followed through with an immense amount of strength. The only thing keeping him from bleeding out on the forest floor was his agility and celerity. Dream couldn’t help but wonder how Quackity had gotten away from Techno with just a few scars to show for it. 

Though he couldn’t keep it up forever, as Dream got more and tired. Constantly jumping around was bound to tire him out sooner rather than later. Luckily, Techno seemed to be having the same problem. Even though he wasn’t jumping around like Dream was, he was having to focus more to plan his next strike, monitoring Dream’s movements closely. 

But Dreams movements were becoming sluggish, more predictable, easier to track. With one more decisive blow, Dream was unable to dodge this time. The iron dagger could only do so much against a netherite sword, and eventually, it gave in to the pressure. Dream was only able to change the aim of the blow before it snapped in half. 

“Blood for the Blood God.” 

It stabbed into his abdomen, and Dream couldn’t do much more than clutch the wound and pray to the gods that he would make it out alive. He was gasping for air in shallow, ragged breaths. His vision was spotty and he could no longer see clearly with the tears that welled up in his eyes. Blood was gushing from the wound, despite Dream as he desperately tried to stop the bleeding by applying pressure. 

“Will you go back to the castle with me now Dream?” Techno asked. It was no longer a question, Technoblade was bringing him back to the castle whether Dream liked it or not. Dream let out a heart-wrenching sob--a dry and scratchy, miserable sound.

“Yes! Fuck, I’ll go back to your stupid castle! I don’t want to die, please!” Dream sobbed, helplessly clutching the wound. Techno pulled Dream up, letting the man lean on his shoulder much to his own displeasure. 

“Open a portal to the castle,” Techno ordered. “That’s the only way we’ll be able to treat your wounds in time.” Dream started to sob even harder, uncontrollable tears running down his cheeks like rivers. He shook his head vigorously. 

No, he couldn’t open a portal now. He would die if he even attempted to use magic. Still, a harsh shove from Techno and he gave in to the demand. Again, a portal appeared, this time into George’s study--it was the only room he could remember at the time. Techno looked satisfied with the response and together the two went through the portal. 

As promised, the guard and the thief ended up in George’s study. Dream coughed, still gasping for air after teleporting from the edge of the capital to the center of it. He could feel his magic weakening significantly after performing the complicated teleportation. He leaned against one of the bookcases for support. His world was spinning--most likely due to the blood loss--and Dream was getting incredibly dizzy, not to mention the splitting headache he also had. 

“Dream?” 

George? Was George in the room when he had portalled, he couldn’t tell. Everything hurt so much. He felt a hand on his back and looked down to see it was George’s. Huh, that was weird. Wasn’t there some stupid rule that said commoners weren’t allowed to touch the king? 

That’s so fucking cool, Dream thought. He was unable to process in his current state that a king was touching him. Once more his vision blurred, black spots lining his sight before it was wholly covered in black. He heard George say something, but he didn’t remember what it was. It sounded like gibberish before his head hit the ground and he was unconscious.

Dream woke up in an unfamiliar bed, all alone without Sapnap. He threw off the blankets and bedsheets frantically, when pain shot through his body. He hunched over, clutching his side in a pathetic attempt to subdue the pain. “Fuck.” He murmured under his breath. He knocked his knuckle against the wood of his mask, confirming that it was still secured to his face. 

Good. 

He didn’t know what he would’ve done if anyone had taken his mask while he slept. Though it did little to soothe his physical pain he could breathe a sigh of reprieve. Now, he needed to concentrate on figuring out where he was. It certainly wasn’t the inside of a jail cell, Dream was very well acquainted with those. 

The room was beautiful, even if it was also a little messy. The dark oak shelves were stocked to the brim with different positions--the overwhelming majority were regeneration and instant healing, Dream noticed. He also spotted some fire resistance and weakness as well, but he guessed those could be explained away easily. Another shelf was filled to the brim with books and scrolls, but Dream didn’t pay too much attention to them--they wouldn’t help him at all. 

The next thing he noticed was the green curtains dividing him into a separate room. One curtain--both of them were seaweed green in color--was bunched up and held to the side with a golden tie-back. Using the wall as support, Dream stumbled out of the cot to peak outside the curtains. He saw large arches and pillars spanning across a room bigger than anything Dream had ever seen. 

With it, were probably hundreds of small cots just like his across the rooms, but only a few of the cots seemed to be in use. There were also small desks across from every other cot, in the same dark oak like the rest of the wood in the castle. Most of the desks were clean but empty, just a few papers and ink and quill. The desk across from his cot had a lot more papers than the others, as well as two books stacked atop it. 

He opened one of the books, seeing notes scribbled in the margins and bright colors highlighting certain words. Dream didn’t know what any of it meant, and he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. He placed the book back down on the desk before he came face to face with a young woman. 

Dream shifted his mask to cover his whole face in a nervous habit. “Hello?” He asked, backing away from the strange woman. For a moment, he didn’t even recognize his own voice for a second. It was brittle and croaky like he was speaking for the first time in months. 

The woman's mouth twitched downwards into a frown at the sound. She had shoulder-length brown hair, and her bangs parted down the middle, colored platinum blonde in comparison. She had curious blue eyes and was fitted with round glasses that fit her well. 

She wore a form-fitted black turtleneck and a long skirt, reaching down to her ankles where she wore bulky, brown boots that were cropped right above her ankles. Over it all, was the standard nurse’s apron all with the kingdom’s insignia on the front. She looked like the gods had shoved every positive adjective they could find and shoved them into one person--the inverse of Pandora’s Box if you will. 

“You should be in bed.” She told him. 

Gods, she sounded exactly like she looked. A high-pitched voice that spoke honey-coated words. Dream did not trust her for a second, not when she so proudly displayed her loyalty to the crown. He was more focused on getting out of this cursed palace, despite his wobbling legs, or splitting headache, or the indescribable pain in his abdomen. 

“I don’t care! I want to go home,” Dream demanded. His shouting made the pain in his side flare up again, and he leaned against the desk for support. The nurse rubbed his shoulder soothingly, in a kind attempt to soothe his pain. The women helped him back into bed, despite his protests. 

“Even if I was allowed to do that, I couldn’t have that on my conscience. That I had knowingly let a patient die just because he had refused treatment, it would be horrible.” She admitted in that same soft-spoken tone from before. Dream glared at her from behind the mask, a frown finding its way onto his face. 

“I’ll be fine,” Dream insisted. “I’m good at evading death anyways.” 

All he wanted was to go back to Little House with Sapnap and sleep off the pain. He would sit on his own bed as he and Sapnap cuddled, instead of the uncomfortable medical cot with a strange woman. He started to hate the perfectness of the castle even more. The lifelessness of the large, unfamiliar rooms made him weary and afraid. 

He could already tell his time in the castle would be a nightmare. 

Dream just wanted to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I woke up late for school today not pog, but we finally got some beta-readers for this fic so that's some good news! :DD 
> 
> Also here's the Spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6iRXsBpOuw8YZRzydydUAx?si=5e7776ca845e4541


	6. The Caretaker

The nurse--who Dream later learned name’s was Niki--was a kind woman. He was still suspicious of her, but she had been nothing but gentle as she changed his bandages. She always kept an instant healing potion nearby just in case anything went wrong but it never did. She set down the roll of bandages after she finished. “Be careful when you’re moving; you might reopen the wound.” Niki informed him. 

Dream didn’t respond to her, staring blankly outside into the large infirmary. He didn’t miss the way Niki frowned at his refusal to talk. She continued nonetheless, “King George has scheduled a visit to the infirmary to talk to you.” Niki told him. Dream could only nod in response, unknowing of what to say. It wasn't like he could refuse, George would be visiting him whether he liked it or not. Plus, he would be stuck in bed for a week--according to Niki--so he couldn’t run even if he wanted to.

Portalling out of the castle was out of the equation as well, since Techno was able to follow him wherever he portaled to. He shivered at the thought, the stab-wound in his side throbbed in pain as well. Since he was almost fatally injured as well, his magic was weaker than normal. If he wasn’t completely terrified at the thought of someone finding Elysium again, he would use the rest of his magic supply to go home. It would replenish naturally on its own anyways...eventually. 

Dream was left alone for most of the day. Sure, Niki would keep him company but Dream was never too interested in talking to her. He would provide short, one-sentence answers, or none at all. They kept guards posted outside his room at all times and Dream would rather die than try to make conversation with them. 

Dream missed having Sapnap with him. The hours would have flown by with the playful, fire-wielding, idiot by his side. Instead, the hours dragged by leaving Dream mostly alone with his thoughts. 

Niki came back with a tray of food not long after he woke up the first time. It was a simple meal but much higher quality than what he was used to eating. Everything tasted just as good as the bread he had stolen from the castle, maybe even better. 

He had been given a piece of chicken, mashed potatoes, apple, and a potion of regeneration--along with some water to wash everything down of course. Niki had watched him intently, but Dream knew exactly what she was waiting for. He wasn’t going to take off his mask in front of a complete stranger--gods, he hasn’t even taken it off in front of Sapnap! He was not going to give a stranger the satisfaction of being the first one to see his face in years. 

So, he instead lifts it up just above his mouth, the tip of his button-nose peeking through. He took a bite of chicken and realized he was much hungrier than he originally thought. He made a side glance at the nurse before quickly finishing the chicken. He grabbed the regeneration potion and took a swig, the taste of watermelon hit his lips right before the sour taste hit. It left a bad taste in his mouth, Dream puckered and pulled back from the unexpected taste coming from the light pink potion. 

"It may be sour but you still need to drink it." Niki's soft voice came from beside Dream. He sighed, regarding the pink liquid skeptically. He glanced at Niki, who had a warm, reassuring smile on her face, before tipping his head back and chugging the pink liquid. He shut his eyes tight as the healing liquid ran down his throat and he immediately used the glass of water to get rid of the aftertaste, but he cringed at the taste nonetheless. 

“It tastes bad.” Dream said, very matter-of-factly. 

Niki laughed a sweet sound, “it really does.” She agreed with a smile. Dream found that she liked to smile a lot, and also found that he didn’t mind her as much as he thought he would. “You should get some sleep Dream, even if regeneration speeds up the process you’re still injured. Injured patients need rest.” She told him. 

“I’m not tired.” He said. 

Niki only frowned, making no comment. It had almost been a full day since he had been trapped in the castle, and he refused to sleep. He needed to be watchful incase any more guards were sent to kill him. He didn’t trust a single person in this Headan--well, maybe he trusted Niki the tiniest bit, but that's besides the point. 

“Didn’t you say something about the king wanting to visit me?” Dream changed the subject. “When is he coming?” He sat on the bed, his knees pulled up to his chest. The position was painful due to his injury, but then again, so was pretty much every position, 

Niki seemed taken aback by the question, “Oh. I never thought to ask.” She admitted. “He’s on his own schedule really, but I’ll see if he will be down here anytime soon.” Dream nodded in understanding. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure how busy actually George was and how long he sat sitting on his ass, goofing off. He didn’t seem all that busy when he chased Dream throughout the castle.

“I can’t leave you alone unfortunately, and I know how you feel about the guards. So, my assistant Puffy will be down here to watch you while I’m out.” Niki said, a hint of dejection in her voice. Dream stared at her, mouth agape. He made a strange sputtering sound, pulling himself out of bed as fast as he could. 

His body protested the sudden movement, and the stitches on his wound tore open. Blood began to seep through the bandages, and Dream held his side awkwardly. “Oh my gods!” Niki gasped, she took a step towards him, only for Dream to back away until he hit the back of the wall. “Dream you’ll bleed out!” 

“No!” He screamed. “Get away from me!” One of the guards posted at the entrance of the room peeked inside the room to see what was happening, one hand on their weapon. “What’s wrong?” They demanded, gaze flickering between Niki and Dream. 

Niki shook her head at the guard, signalling them to back off. Luckily they did, backing away from the room and returning their sword to its sheath on their hip. “Dream, I need to tend to your wounds.” She said calmly, “can I please come near you, so you won’t get hurt?” She asked permission this time, not wanting to scare the blonde.

Dream nodded slowly, watching the guard carefully as they backed away, before he turned his attention back to Niki. “Okay,” he croaked, his voice weak and scratchy. Niki took careful steps towards him, before leading him to lay back down on the bed. She unwrapped the blood-soiled bandages around his midsection before taking a cloth from the side table and pressing it firmly onto the wound. 

Dream choked back a whimper, and sucked in a sharp and painful breath, before his breaths came in as short, ragged gasps. He willed himself to not cry for the second time, as Niki applied constant pressure until finally, the bleeding stopped. She used a new cloth, dipping it into a regeneration potion before wiping the area free of blood, all before rewrapping the area in bandages. She mumbled sweet praises, rubbing his shoulder soothingly. 

“Can I ask you about what happened?” Dream nodded, but said nothing. The room was eerily quiet, except for the blonde’s shallow breathing. His hand went up to his mask, adjusting it so it was over his mouth again before lightly tapping on it a few times for comfort. Niki seemed to understand that he was becoming non-verbal, and settled for yes or no questions. Questions that could easily be answered with a nod or a shake of one’s head. 

She started out with an easy question, “can you talk right now?” He shook his head. Niki hummed in understanding, rubbing his shoulder once more in a reassuring gesture. “That’s okay.” She reassured him. 

“Do you know Puffy?” He nodded.

“Is she bad?” He shook his head.

So Niki tried the opposite, “is she good?” Dream shook his head again. 

Nikki tilted her head with slight confusion. “She’s neither?” Another nod. 

“Did she hurt you?” Once again, he nodded. “How did she hurt you?” She tacked on. Dream paused for a moment, fiddling with his hands for a moment as he thought about his answer. For the first time in a very long time, he used his basic knowledge of sign-language. It had been a very long time since he had communicated with someone using sign-language, but he remembered most of the alphabet. 

H-A-R-T

Dream spelled out the word for heart the best he could, before looking at Niki expectantly. She frowned at him, “I’m sorry I don’t know sign language. I have a friend who can translate. He’s in the library, and we can go visit him if you’re feeling up to it.” She offered. Luckily, Dream nodded in response. 

“Can you walk?” He nodded, and carefully Niki helped him up from the bed. “It isn’t very far from here.” That much was true, it was just across the courtyard from the Infermany in the study hall. Niki couldn’t help but feel bad for having to lead Dream through the uneven ground outside, but to his credit, the blonde seemed to enjoy being outside much more. 

She also felt bad when Dream squeezed her hand anxiously when they got to the study hall. She squeezed back reassuringly, flashing a smile to help calm him down. “It’s just down this hall.” She told him. 

The library was just as huge as the rest of the rooms, eight tall, perfect Corinthian pillars holding up a large stone cut horizontally to rest on all of the pillars. There were many murals of the gods carved into it. In the middle of the pillars was an archway that led into the library. It was as beautiful as it was intimidating. 

When Dream was led into the library he was amazed at the two stories filled with scrolls and books. Large windows of stained glass brought a dash of color to the more monochromatic library. Tiles formed intricate designs on the floors and calls of the library, with a large maroon carpet leading up to a large desk where a man in a yellow sweater sat. 

“Wilbur!” Niki called out to the man. He looked up from the book he was reading, setting it down onto the desk. He had curly brown hair brown eyes behind circular glasses that matched his aesthetic perfectly. Dream also noticed he had a collared dress-shirt underneath the yellow sweater.

He grinned at her, “Niki!” He stood up to meet the nurse half way, and Dream felt dwarfed in comparison to his height. While Dream was not short in any way--maybe six foot two, give or take--but Wilbur was at least three inches taller than him. “How are you?” He asked. He couldn’t help but frown at the fact that he had to crane his neck slightly to look Wilbur in the eyes.

“I’m good Wil.” She smiled, “this is Dream, by the way.” She motioned towards the blonde man at her side. Wilbur turned his attention to Dream, the same grin on his face as he held out his hand. Hesitantly, Dream shook the librarian’s hand, giving a nod of acknowledgement. 

Can you translate for me Wil?” She asked Wilbur. "Can you sign it again to him, Dream?” Niki asked softly. He nodded and once more signed the word heart, letter by letter. 

He studied the hand movements for a moment, it wasn’t everyday he was asked to translate sign language. “Heart,” Wilbur said finally, translating the letters from sign language to verbal speech. “If you don’t mind me asking, is this the Dream?” Wilbur asked, a tinge of excitement in his voice. 

Niki looked at Dream, and he nodded to give her the go-ahead. “Yeah, he is.” Niki said. 

“Wow, you really do wear a smiley-face mask. That’s so cool!” Wilbur’s grin stretched from ear to ear, “I heard that you were in the castle, it’s truly an honor to meet you. Anyone who can go toe to toe with Technoblade and come out of it alive is truly amazing!” Dream seemed taken aback by the compliment, but he nodded along anyway. "So, why are you using sign-language instead of speaking?" The taller man asks. Dream thinks for a second before spelling out t-e-m-p-o-r-a-i-r-e. Oh, temporary. Wilbur nods understandingly, despite the spelling mistakes.

“Don’t overwhelm him Wilbur. He still needs to recover before you start bombarding him with questions.” Wilbur looked a little dejected but hummed in agreement nonetheless. “We'll be going back to the Medical Hall now, but it’s always nice to visit you. Thank you for translating.”

Together, the two left the grand library and Wilbur along with it. They walked back through the stained glass hallway, the light coming through the window was discolored, matching the color of the glass. 

While the mural was one of the most beautiful things Dream had ever seen, he hated walking through the hallway more than anything. He let himself breathe a sigh of relief when they finally got out into the courtyard. He liked the fresh air much more than spending all day in a library, or study, no matter how grand they were. 

Once they were back in the safety of the Medical Hall, Niki asked: “She hurt your heart?” Once again, she received a nod in response. Niki rubbed his shoulder reassuringly, humming softly.

“Would you ever want to talk to her?” Dream shrugged at the question.

She sighed--Dream couldn’t tell if it was relief or disappointment. “You should get some sleep, Dream. I know you must be tired with everything that’s been happening. I won’t let anything happen to you while you sleep.” She promised with a soft, calming voice.

This time, Dream took her suggestion. Niki shut the curtain and blew out the lantern, trying to stop as much light from coming in as possible, even when it was still daytime. Dream closed his eyes, hugging his frame--being careful not to touch his wound-- to simulate Sapnap’s warmth. It wasn’t the same but it got the job done. A quiet voice in his head chittered about how attached he had become to the younger boy.

This time, when Dream was lulled to sleep, he fell into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. This is all we have for right now. We're working on chapter 7 right now so hopefully it'll be out soon. 
> 
> -nettie


End file.
